A pain in the repository of irritations

Note: due to the sensitive nature of this topic, no photos are posted.
When walking around the neighborhood, most dogs slow and sniff several locations before deciding on the optimum point of deposit. Not Alanis. She freezes mid-step in order to contemplate the state of her bowels.

I walk my dogs for exercise; we do not stroll. Alanis has different ideas. At some point during every walk, she wants to poop. The problem is that she has trouble making up her mind—or other body parts—about when and where she wants to do it. We trot along briskly and she’ll suddenly stop, looking bewildered, as if experiencing a new sensation she can't identify.

I say, “Well, if you’re going to do it, do it.”  I wait. She waits. Finally I drag the dogs along because Alanis has decided she's not read to rumble. She’ll stop five times before she finally tucks her legs under and poops. Then the dogs want to move on and I’m saying, “Wait just a minute” because I have to pick the stuff up.

You might say that Alanis is zen-like, in tune with her body, with all this contemplation. I wish, however, she'd do her contemplating in the back yard.

Poop Pivots and a Paper Plug

Dog fanatics find their dogs’ toilet habits a subject of ongoing interest. You’ll find hundreds of posts about the topic on Airedale-L alone. Said habits are inextricably linked with newspapers.

Neither of my dogs can just poop when out for a walk. Alanis insists on 3 pee stops, then a poop stop, then a couple more pee squats, then a poop and finally squeezing out one last poop stop, the object being to use up to three plastic bags and stop as many times as possible.

Miró doesn’t always poop on walks. When he does need to, he walks slower and slower. We stop. He stands there as if thinking, “I know there was a reason for stopping. Now what was it? Wait, it’ll come to me. Hey, do I smell pee mail?”

Meanwhile I’m saying, “S**t or get off the pot, Miró. Let’s go. We’re out for exercise.”

He gets moving again, slows again. It’s either stop or drag him. He sniffs around. Here? No, not quite right. How about this spot? Close but no cigar. This, right here is good. He gets into his squat and starts pivoting like a compass, hind end swinging around depositing the load while his front feet dance in place. Fortunately, he requires only one plastic bag.

I use newspaper sleeves for doggie pick-up. I subscribe to the Seattle Times and the Sunday New York Times. Every person who walks her dog should subscribe to a newspaper. Newspapers not only provide breakfast table information (thereby benefitting your health by insuring that you eat breakfast), they also line parrot cages, soak up unfortunate messes, and arrive in useful plastic bags. They are instruments of visual, tactile and kinesthetic learning. Maybe I should start carrying around the Wall Street Journal; I’ll look smarter.